


tell me why my gods look like you

by skywalkerz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Softie, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, hannibal lecter is whipped lowkey, no murder or cannibalism here sorry, not to baby him but........he is baby, soft will graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkerz/pseuds/skywalkerz
Summary: Rare moments of Will not being an irritable, sarcastic diva.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 32
Kudos: 311





	tell me why my gods look like you

For as long as Hannibal has known, loved and breathed Will Graham, he has always been relentlessly sarcastic, witty, almost borderline bitchy, although Hannibal would never admittedly use that adjective out loud. 

If something bothers Will, he will vocalize it. If he's crabby, tired, even a little bit, he will make sure to broadcast it. Will has no problem pouting, quipping back at Hannibal, throwing what can only be described as adult temper tantrums when he is livid. 

When Will starts to go soft, Hannibal almost doesn't even notice it, as it becomes muted by all his other irritable moods. 

Will's brushing his teeth one night, uncoordinated and sloppy, toothpaste foam dribbling down his chin. Around his toothbrush, Hannibal can make out his request: 

"Babe, will 'ou get me a towel, 'lease?" Almost unrecognizable, and the question allows for more toothpaste to fall onto his t-shirt. But Hannibal tries not to overthink the term of endearment too much. He simply fetches Will a hand towel, one of his tattered ones, and places it on the sink, letting a hand trail on Will's waist before he exits the bathroom. 

He hears Will spit into the sink, probably louder than he really needs to, and hears the faucet turn on. Will's gentle "babe" lingers in Hannibal's ears, it bounces back and forth in his brain until he is sure he dreamt the entire thing, anyways. 

* * *

Hannibal has definitely allowed his guard to fall around Will once or twice, maybe more times than that. Consistently being in each other's orbit means allowing one another to see all states of the other person, good and bad. 

Hannibal's "bad" is consistently managing to fall asleep on the couch, early evening, the sun daring to start to set. He can feel his eyelids growing heavy, wavering between a state of wakefulness and unconsciousness. He lets his novel drop onto his sternum, submissively letting his lids droop shut, swearing only for a moment.

He doesn't know what time it must be when he feels a gentle weight coat his body. He's practically still half-asleep, but awake enough to process the movements. The weight is adjusted - a blanket being manipulated so it is covering Hannibal's upper body as well as his feet. He feels his novel being slid off of his chest, so carefully, subtle fingertips barely brushing him. He feels a hand card through the front locks of his hair, pushing them off of his forehead, and he lets himself lean into the touch, just for a second. 

The hand - Hannibal knows it is Will's - caresses Hannibal's bicep over the fleece blanket for a brief moment. And then the hand is gone. Footsteps drift away. 

Hannibal has to really ponder when he wakes up what was real, and what was his own longing playing tricks on him.

* * *

Hannibal's on one side of the couch, sketching mindlessly to himself. Will is on the other end, scrolling on his phone, while one of his hands fiddles through some of his curls absentmindedly. 

It takes nearly an hour, but somewhere in that time, Will has managed to migrate himself across the couch, centering himself on the middle cushion, so close to Hannibal their knees almost are knocking together. 

Hannibal continues to sketch, and hears Will's iPhone lock as he clicks the top button. He hears Will sigh, gentle and fatigued. He can feel eyes on him as he blends a harsh graphite line with his thumb. 

"Whatcha drawing?' Will ponders, voice pure enough to resemble a small child. Hannibal doesn't look up quite yet, but feels Will's head drop onto his shoulder gently. Will takes it upon himself to let a hand curl around Hannibal's bicep, the same arm he is currently drawing with. Hannibal drops the pencil and lets his head fall back against the cushion of the couch. 

"Unfortunately, I seem to find myself only desiring to manipulate you into my art." Hannibal says, voice calm and syrupy, placing Will in a state of euphoria. The serenity of Hannibal's voice has Will nuzzling closer to him, clutching his bicep a little tighter. 

"Unfortunately, huh?" Will teases, although his voice lacks typical boldness and wit. Sure enough though, there is Will in the graphite, smiling in what appears to be a garden. He's holding a flower he cannot name, and a beautiful dog is perched next to him. To be quite honest, it is probably the softest thing Hannibal has ever sketched in his god damn life. 

"You make a mess of me, Will Graham." Hannibal states. "I do hope you can forgive the way you seem to frequently trickle into my mind." 

Will turns his face up, finally, mouth inches away from Hannibal's, still clutching his arm like a lifeline. 

"I think you're talented. If I never told you." Will all but mumbles, and then looks back at the drawing. Silence follows, Hannibal picks up the abandoned pencil, and continues to sketch. 

* * *

As Hannibal lounges in bed, novel opened in front of him, he can instantly hear the obnoxiously loud footsteps coming towards the master bedroom.

Will is in the room almost immediately. Typically, it is normal for Will to get in the bed; he'll scroll on his phone, giggling here and there at "memes" that Hannibal will never process. Sometimes he'll snatch Hannibal's tablet and watch a show, or film. Sometimes he will just observe Hannibal, whether he's sketching, reading, sometimes doing a Sudoku puzzle. 

Tonight, however, Will loses any boundaries that might have existed. Hannibal doesn't even understand what's happening before Will is taking the book out of his hands, placing it next to Hannibal. Will makes himself comfortable, settling himself down between Hannibal's legs, laying back against his chest, snuggling even more to adjust himself. 

Then, Will is picking the book up, placing it back into Hannibal's hands, which rest in front of Will's chest. The setting almost resembles a parent reading their child a bedtime story. 

"This seems to be a not so practical way to read literature, dear Will." Hannibal says, amusement dancing in his voice. 

Hannibal muffles a groan as Will continues to adjust himself in his lap, his shoulder blades hitting Hannibal straight in the sternum. 

"Tell me, Will, are you typically this mobile?" 

Will responds by wiggling his leg around, tucking his under one of Hannibal's. 

Hannibal sighs with content, letting the book fall shut, and setting it besides the two of them; Will is an adequate distraction, and reading is not going to be an option with the smaller man in his space.

Hannibal lets his eyes flutter shut when Will starts to trail his fingernails up and down Hannibal's forearms. 

"Will you make me french toast in the morning?" Will questions, and his voice gives away his exhaustion, all plagued with sleep and grogginess. 

Hannibal brings a hand to Will's curls, pulling them from his forehead gently, letting his fingers drag through them and trail through his scalp. 

"Fulfilling your desires would bring me nothing but pure contentment." He replies softly.

"So - yes?" He feels Will's fingers still on his forearms. 

"Yes, Will." 

**Author's Note:**

> djkfjsdkf can i stop writing soft hannigram..............g damn


End file.
